


you’re always here (suffocating me)

by fantastiken



Category: 24K (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-16 13:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11829723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantastiken/pseuds/fantastiken
Summary: When the doorbell rings at eleven at night, the last person Jeonguk expects to see across the threshold is Daeil. He's there, alive, and that comes as a surprise that both relieves and upsets him.





	you’re always here (suffocating me)

**Author's Note:**

> ~ content warning: foul language, a little bit of violence, veeery brief mention of drugs and suicidal thoughts. daeil is an asshole. jeonguk is kind of an asshole too, but he’s also soft. i am in pain.  
> ~ this fic is set in a completely alternative universe, they aren’t idols and have nothing to do with the entertainment industry whatsoever. i wanted them being reckless and angsty and punching each other and nobody was going to write it so here i am. i don’t even know where i was going with this but who would have thought i’d ever get the guts to write anything again!

When the doorbell rings at eleven at night, the last person Jeonguk expects to see across the threshold is Daeil. But when he does open the door without checking through the peephole first that’s exactly who he finds standing on his battered doormat, with clearly disheveled aspect and damp hair. It’s been drizzling all day. 

Jeonguk grips the door and gasps, and he could blame it on the cold air howling in from the purple December night but he’d be kidding no one. He stares at Daeil and his first impulse is to feel relief. He notices the rush of tears stinging the corners of his eyes and the tip of his nose, yet that’s quickly overthrown by the wave of unadulterated anger that washes over him in a matter of seconds — he’s so mad that he doesn’t react when Daeil pushes past him and into his quickly cooling apartment. Jeonguk wants to say something, _do_ something, but he's petrified. Daeil is there, alive, and that comes as a surprise that both relieves and upsets him. 

“Are you not gonna say anything?” 

Jeonguk isn't aware of how long he has been standing there, one hand on the door frame, gaping at the spot Daeil was standing in before, but it’s precisely Daeil’s raspy voice what shakes him awake from his trance-like state. 

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he finally spits, venom rising quickly up his throat. “Why do you think you have any right to bring your ungrateful ass here?” 

Daeil gazes at him with assessing eyes. He’s got a recent gash on his left cheek that looks like it’s become infected and needs stitches — Jeonguk doesn’t care, he’s seething. 

“Why wouldn’t I come here? We’re—” 

Daeil hasn’t finished his sentence, brows scrunched in a confused frown, when Jeonguk closes the door so harshly the windows rattle. 

“How _dare_ you,” he growls. It’s impossible for him to conceal how hard he’s shaking, how out of control he’s feeling but he’s damn sure he has all the right to be. He isn't at fault this time. “How dare you come here after all this time.” 

“Jeonguk, I just—” 

“You’ve been gone for five months, Daeil. Five months without a single word from your or hearing your name anywhere. Nobody on the streets knew where you were or what you were doing.” The words flow quick, like a river that is just starting its journey down a steep hill. He can’t stop them, and he won’t. Daeil deserves to know what he’s done. “I thought you were dead.” His voice is barely a whisper by the end. His chest hurts so much. 

The floor is dotted with the water droplets that drip from Daeil’s jacket steadily. He looks very pale, although Jeonguk is not sure whether it’s because of what he’s just said or the cold seeping into his bones. 

“Honestly, Banpo has been looking like the perfect place to jump to death from for a while,” he says with a thready voice. He hasn’t completely closed his mouth when he’s barking out peals of hysterical laughter. 

Jeonguk isn’t sure whether Daeil has gone insane of if it’s him that’s lost his mind completely. 

“Don’t come here with that bullshit,” he spits. “You have no idea how concerned I’ve been about you. I’ve worried myself sick for months and you— you—” 

“Oh,” Daeil cuts in, “so now you have feelings? That’s new.” 

That does it for Jeonguk. 

“I’ve always had feelings unlike you, you fucker!” he bellows. He’s shaking harder than ever now and feels his mind going a mile a minute, frenzied — he feels numb, but burning up at the same time. “The only feelings you’ve ever sought have been the adrenaline rush of barely escaping the police or death! That’s the only thing you’ve ever cared about while I worried about you for years.” 

“You’re the one bullshitting here,” Daeil refutes. “You talk like you haven’t done the same things I have.” 

Jeonguk feels cold, suddenly. Daeil is right, but he’s also so _wrong_. “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that you’ve always been reckless, that you’ve never cared about anyone but yourself and now... You just came back after months, Daeil, what the fuck. If that ain’t selfish I don’t know what is.” 

For a minute, the room is silent. Water droplets hit the windows at a steady pace; it’s starting to properly rain. 

When Daeil speaks, his voice is dark and full of bitterness. “You think of yourself as a good guy but you’re just as twisted as I am. That now you’re seeking some sort of stupid redemption for god knows what reason doesn’t magically erase the things you’ve done and doesn’t make you a better person. And it certainly doesn’t give you the right to blame me for your newfound shame.” 

“I’m not seeking redemption!” And it’s true because why would he? He’s always known the risks of the fights, of the drugs, of breaking into places and wreaking havoc, and he’s always followed Daeil’s lead because he had no trouble putting his moral aside for certain things. But they’re not teenagers anymore, they can’t live out of adrenaline rushes and thin air forever. Food Jeonguk can steal if it comes to that, but he needs a roof over his head and the certainty that he won’t be found frozen to death in an alley on a winter morning. “I was just worried that you had crossed the line. I was worried you were dead and I would never know what happened to you.” 

Daeil scoffs. There’s that dangerous somber smile of his pulling his lips up, like the one he’s always used when he thinks somebody is testing his patience or trying to lie to him. “What would have you done if I were dead?” He sounds almost like he’s challenging Jeonguk, trying to see his real colors. Yet Jeonguk’s colors are laid on the table and the only thing he’s hiding is the sting of disappointment at Daeil’s lack of apology. “Would you cradle my dead body in your arms and cry? Would you b—” 

He never gets to finish his sentence because Jeonguk punches him in the face first. 

The hit is as unexpected for one as it is for the other. Daeil stumbles until his back hits the wall and he can brace himself; he then stares at Jeonguk like it’s the first time he’s seeing him — it isn’t the first time they’ve thrown punches and kicks at each other, actually, but that was long ago, when they first met. Jeonguk is breathing hard, he only sees red. When he looks up into Daeil’s eyes the fire within him makes him surge forward, rage pumping in his veins. He’s determined to strike a punch again but he’s so out of it that Daeil has time to catch his fist and lock his arm between their bodies. 

“Let me go.” Jeonguk writhes, trying to release his hand from Daeil’s grip, but Daeil seems to be a lot stronger than he looks — or maybe Jeonguk is not in control of his body anymore. “Let me go,” he repeats through gritted teeth. 

From up close, the cut on Daeil’s cheek looks swollen, and his lip is bleeding. Jeonguk still doesn’t care. He just wants Daeil to release his arm and let him breathe. For some reason he feels a little faint. For some reason too, Daeil not only doesn’t release him, but also brings Jeonguk closer and looks at him straight in the eye. 

That’s something Jeonguk can’t take. Daeil is an asshole, he knows this, has known for years, but he’d never been that much of an asshole to Jeonguk, had never hurt him intentionally. But this... this thing he’s done, abandoning him and vanishing into thin air — that crossed the line. Jeonguk has never been this angry, but he’s also never been this hurt. He can’t stand the weight of Daeil’s gaze anymore, so he casts his eyes down and lets his forehead fall on Daeil’s collarbones. It is then when a wretched sob has his body shivering violently and he starts crying no matter how much he wants the tears to stop. This whole scene feels like an awful joke and he hates everything. 

Before he knows it, Daeil is bringing them even closer and clutching Jeonguk to his chest with a hand on his waist. That only makes Jeonguk’s anger flare up and he struggles, jerking his body to try and get away. The smell of Daeil’s clothes is so strange yet so familiar, it clogs his senses and makes more angry tears stream down his cheeks. The fist that isn’t being held punches the wall next to Daeil’s face in another fit of temper, but afterwards it’s like Jeonguk loses the war, because with a powerful sense of helplessness he feels his knees give out and he slowly slides down to the floor. Only then Daeil releases his wrist, which doesn’t bring about the solace he was expecting but a sense of loneliness that only makes him cry harder. He feels pathetic. 

His eyes are closed so it’s not like Jeonguk can see anything, but he definitely feels Daeil’s hands on his nape, he feels his knees touching his arms as he crouches down, and he feels his lips as they fall on the crown of his head. Jeonguk sobs. “Stop it.” 

He repeats it over and over again, voice lost in a deep well of frustration at himself, at Daeil, but Daeil simply massages his scalp and neck with his fingers. The pressure of his rough hands is comforting, and Jeonguk feels sick. 

“Please stop,” he says one last time before he reaches up and grabs the cuffs of Daeil’s jacket. With shaky hands, Jeonguk pulls Daeil’s own from his skin and gently pushes him away. He doesn’t want to deal with any of his feelings now, not today. He’s so, so tired. 

Daeil lets go easily, sitting on the floor with a defeated sigh. Standing up becomes hard for Jeonguk; he’s still shaking, but he manages to get up on wobbly legs and take one, two tiny steps before Daeil grabs his wrist again. Jeonguk tenses up, but looks down when Daeil pulls on his sleeve softly. 

“Are you gonna kick me out?” he says, and he almost looks vulnerable. Maybe he is. 

Jeonguk breathes in, out, before he answers with a watery voice. “You deserve it.” The soft rain has turned into a storm. Meanwhile, Jeonguk’s inner storm has calmed down and transitioned into a reluctant rumble in his chest. 

Daeil neither confirms nor denies what he said. He simply looks at Jeonguk, hesitant, and quivers. “Are you?” 

It’s almost funny, really, how small Daeil seems. It’s funny because he has always been big, strong, this radiant source of light with a booming voice and reckless ideas. He always seemed invincible to Jeonguk no matter how many beatings he’d taken, how many bones he’d broken, how many blows he’d received. But there, sitting on the floor of his living room with wet clothes and a busted lip, he seems weaker than ever, even more fragile than Jeonguk himself is — and Jeonguk feels ready to shatter at the slightest of touches. 

So Jeonguk yields against his better judgement, against the voice in his head that tells him that this is a bad idea and that his soft resolve will come bite him in the ass in the near future. “You can sleep on the couch tonight,” he says, and he doesn’t hold Daeil’s gaze any longer because he’s afraid he will start crying again. His throat still feels tight, and his voice is still embarrassingly hoarse. 

A moment later he’s leaving the room and picking fresh clothes from his wardrobe and a small jar of balm and antiseptic from his bathroom. On the way out, he grabs a towel as well. 

When he steps into the living room again he sees that Daeil is sitting on the edge of the couch now. He makes a ball with the towel and throws it across the room at Daeil, who looks a bit surprised when it lands on his head and he sees that Jeonguk is back. He then gets handed the clothes wordlessly, and thus takes that as a cue to change into them. Daeil strips naked in a matter of seconds, never one to have any sense of shame, much less in front of Jeonguk. Also in a matter of seconds he’s sitting in one of Jeonguk’s basketball shorts and soft cotton shirts, and looking at him with uncertainty. Jeonguk points at the couch with his head and Daeil sits. In front of him, on the small coffee table, Jeonguk lays the things he grabbed from his precarious first aid kit. 

Daeil looks at the things, then at Jeonguk, and his eyes are big and almost _pleading_ and Jeonguk hates him for it but he hates himself more. _Are you going to ask a kicked puppy to lick his own wounds?_ is what his facial expression says, even though he’s far from being a puppy. Regardless, Jeonguk sits down next to him and picks cotton buds and the small bottle of antiseptic and gets to work. The wound on his cheek looks pretty bad, and Jeonguk wonders when and how he got it — Did he get into a fight? Was he being arrested and struggled? It wouldn’t be the first time any of those things happened. He needs to get professional help to disinfect the cut and stitch it up, but for the moment Jeonguk does his best to clean it and patch it with soft gauze. Daeil does not flinch once. 

However, it’s curiously when Jeonguk starts spreading some balm on the cut on his lip that he whines and scrunches his brows, like that's the most painful thing he has ever felt. 

“Suck it up,” is what Jeonguk says, because very few things have ever looked more painful than an open cut on one’s face. Daeil makes a face that Jeonguk ignores, choosing instead to keep covering the small wounds he’s got here and there with the ointment. He does look like he’s in pain, though, and asks him to stop a couple of times with tense shoulders. Jeonguk doesn’t care, really. 

Except he does. 

*

*

*

It’s hours later when Jeonguk wakes up, comfortably tangled on his bed sheets. It’s still very late, not a single ray of sunlight in sight, but it’s not hard to miss that rain is pouring heavily now and there’s a thunderstorm shaking the building up. He opens his eyes as he stretches lazily, and he isn't completely surprised when his shin touches a warm lump. 

Daeil is not on the sofa anymore but asleep beside him on the bed. He’s half curled up, half sprawled with one leg dangling from the edge of the mattress — suddenly Jeonguk can’t swallow properly. Daeil looks... peaceful, in a way, but so, so troubled. Humidity has made his hair curl into messy spirals that are now spread haphazardly on the bed and his forehead. The sheets have left several marks on his face and forearms that look way softer and gentler than the marks he’s brought home from the streets. Jeonguk’s stomach twists at the familiarity of his sleeping face. There’s a thunderclap a few seconds later, and Daeil opens his eyes with panic written all across his face. Jeonguk had forgotten for a moment how scared he is of storms. 

It takes seconds for Daeil to realize where he is and why he’s been awaken, and a wide range of emotions morph his face in such a way that in any other context Jeonguk would have laughed at him. Now though, Daeil seems very distressed as he looks at Jeonguk with a mix of shame and desperation in his eyes. 

Another thunderclap makes the world clatter, and Jeonguk sighs. Quietly, he finds the edge of the blanket and covers Daeil with it so that they’re both lying down under its warmth. Daeil shakes, probably embarrassed, but does nothing to conceal how afraid he is because what would be the point? Jeonguk knows, Jeonguk would never judge him. Tentatively, he reaches forward and grabs a fistful of Jeonguk’s shirt, an exact reflection of the one he himself is wearing, and scoots forward a little until his nose is almost touching Jeonguk’s chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is so soft, so small, that Jeonguk wouldn’t have heard him had they not been this close. It’s really warm under the blankets, and Jeonguk’s heart aches. “I’m sorry,” Daeil repeats. 

He sounds like he’s sorry for real. For anybody else it would be hard to believe, but he can tell the difference. Daeil is the most unapologetic person he has ever met, yet he’s hung his head several times in front of Jeonguk — none like this time, though. This is his biggest mess and it will probably take him a while to come to terms with it and really own to it, if he does want to. Jeonguk hopes he does. 

When lightning illuminates the room for an instant, Daeil tenses up again. Jeonguk doesn’t hesitate to reach for his friend and tangle his fingers in Daeil’s curls. And it’s like that, with his fingers stroking tousled hair how they both fall asleep again. 

*

*

*

When Jeonguk wakes up, most likely around noon, it’s not raining anymore. He feels Daeil tangled like a snake around his torso and thinks it’s too early for his heart to be jumping this wildly inside his chest. Much like what he did at night, he cards his fingers through Daeil’s hair — this time, he scratches his scalp more insistently. Daeil groans but does not complain verbally when Jeonguk tells him to get up. 

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” 

He looks pointedly at Daeil with tension written all over his face, as if expecting him to protest. Daeil only opens his mouth to let out a monstrous yawn before nodding unhurriedly. 

This is a first. 

It’s surprisingly warm outside for how much it was raining yesterday. Jeonguk is silently thankful for that, for he does not own enough warm clothes to bundle Daeil and himself up efficiently. For some reason though, they still huddle together during the subway ride to the hospital, and walk shoulder to shoulder into the building until a nurse starts asking them questions. Daeil looks slightly miserable, although Jeonguk can’t bring himself to fully pity him — he’s still really pissed, and Daeil being hurt because of his own recklessness is not going to make his mistakes fade away like dust in the wind. 

And yet, when the nurse returns a while later and tells Daeil to get behind some nondescript curtains so somebody can get that cut stitched, Jeonguk follows at the command of Daeil’s big, apprehensive eyes and warm hand around his wrist. He wouldn’t have said no if he had had the chance anyway because in the end and no matter how much affliction that may bring upon him, Jeonguk could never deny any of Daeil’s wishes. Now, Daeil’s pain is his pain too so he straightens his back and holds his gaze as a needle sews his face back together. He does not look away once, and neither does Daeil. 

“I didn’t cry in there,” Daeil croaks when they’re already a few streets away from the hospital. They both look a little less anxious now, a little less bruised inside yet still tender to the touch. 

“You didn’t,” Jeonguk concedes with a small nod. For a tough boy, Daeil has always been afraid of too many things. 

“I was really scared,” he admits with a pout. Jeonguk wonders where this puppy version of his friend has been for months — he’s missed it. 

He swallows up the _I could tell_ that threatens to roll off his tongue and looks at Daeil with raised eyebrows instead. That is precisely what sets them apart: Daeil is quick to obnoxiously crack biting remarks while Jeonguk keeps them to himself most of the time. “You deserve a reward,” he says in the end, and he hates how his stomach swoops and makes him feel flustered when Daeil stares at him with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. It’s not fair, yet Jeonguk craves the attention. 

A sudden gust of wind ruffles his hair and has him clenching his gloved fists because it’s not exactly cold but the air is _freezing_. Daeil looks at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, and that makes Jeonguk both very happy and extremely confused at the same time. Jeonguk’s hands are shaking a little and not because of the hostile weather, so he shoves them in the pockets of his jacket in fear Daeil will notice. 

The reward turns out to be coffee for them — actually, coffee for Jeonguk and a strawberry shake for Daeil, who has never been too fond of bitter things. He’s always had a sweet tooth. Jeonguk thinks of the irony of it all and has to make a conscious effort not to obscenely let out a bark of laughter. Just his luck, huh? 

They don’t stay in the coffee shop longer than necessary. They’ve always liked to be outside more, let the sun touch their skin with harsh bites during winter and gentle kisses during spring. They make their way to Seoul Forest; it’s big enough for them to get a little lost and not find many people even though most students are on Christmas break and taking their chance to walk around outside on such a nice day. Soon they find a vast lake with a large fountain in the middle. The lake is surrounded by swarms of mosquitoes in summer, but now in the cold weather season it’s quiet and undisturbed. The fountain is not working, water frozen in its pipes. Drink in hand, Jeonguk sits on the dock-like shore. He feels more like he sees Daeil sitting down next to him. 

The water is very calm, covered in a thin layer of frost. The sun is a little too bright, but none of them seem to care much. 

Jeonguk notices their silence and doesn’t register it as awkward, yet he feels it building up like the air charges with electricity right before a storm. It makes him anxious, as if a hundred bugs were crawling on his skin. He doesn’t know if this is just the calm before the storm, if this sort of truce the’ve had going on for a few hours will shatter and damage more than it has healed. 

He sips on his coffee as he holds onto the styrofoam cup to try and steal some of its warmth. 

“I don’t get how you can drink such a bitter thing.” Daeil points at Jeonguk’s hands with his drink. Jeonguk smiles — they’ve already had this conversation a million times in the past, and the familiarity of it is indescribably easing. 

“I don’t get how you can drink such a _sweet_ thing,” he answers back, thankful for the friendly banter. “It’s the middle of fucking December too, that thing must be frozen.” He points back to Daeil’s plastic cup. “Your fingers are gonna fall off.” 

“Are not,” Daeil replies with a childish grimace, although he does not turn down Jeonguk’s gloves when he offers them. They’re a little small for his longer fingers, but they’ll make do. It’s cute seeing him adjust them on his hand with a focused expression on his face anyways. 

They stay silent again for a while, simply staring at the dark water or trying to figure out if the faint crackling sounds are a consequence of the ice melting or a rodent or insect rustling the dry vegetation surrounding the water. With the sunlight reflecting over the surface of the water so blindingly it’s a little hard to discern. 

“Wanna try?” Daeil offers after a while. A thick straw is trapped between his teeth. Jeonguk looks at the shake and Daeil’s eyes alternatively, pondering if he should take him up on the offer because his heart is beating way faster than it should and that is probably something he can’t handle much longer. It seems like Daeil is dangerous in more ways than one. 

“Sure,” he ends up saying. Strawberry is a fruit he likes — he just hopes the concoction Daeil is drinking isn’t _too_ sweet. Again, the irony. 

Daeil tilts his cup, offering the straw to Jeonguk who simply leans forward and takes it between his lips. The drink is sweet but his mouth still tastes bitter from his coffee, so that subdues the flavor some. He likes it. He takes another gulp just because he can, and it’s seconds later when he feels how cold the drink is and how his teeth suffer from it. Daeil then retrieves his hand and takes a sip, not bothered even a bit. 

“‘s good,” Jeonguk concedes, although he makes sure to voice it seriously. The last thing he needs is Daeil thinking he’s turned him against coffee — he only needs Daeil winning some wars. 

“See? Told you.” His smile is smug for a second before it becomes something softer, definitely more enraptured. “You’re cute,” he mumbles, and Jeonguk isn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that or if Daeil had meant to say it out loud even. 

He gulps down lukewarm coffee and a little lump of nervousness as his eyes dig holes into the frozen water. “Am not.” 

And maybe Daeil hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but now he just goes with it. The vulnerable boy that sat yesterday on his living room floor, drenched and scared, is nowhere to be seen. 

“You are,” he says firmly, although his voice is tiny. 

Jeonguk opens his mouth to object but before he can even speak Daeil lifts his cup and offers it up to him again with scrunched up eyebrows and a pout. _That_ is cute, is what Jeonguk things. Still, he leans in and traps the straw again. The wooden floor is weirdly cold when his hand touches it. 

He hears a mumble that sounds a lot like _cute_ before he’s even done, and he looks up only to find Daeil staring at him. Slowly he backs up, a little lost and a lot nervous. 

Curiously though, he’s calm when Daeil leans in and kisses the corner of his lips. He’s collected and feels at ease, like that was simply the most natural thing to happen. The shake was sweet, but Daeil tastes definitely sweeter with his boyish smile and the curious tilt of his head and the way he looks at Jeonguk, a little wary but so unafraid at the same time. 

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but Jeonguk knows he will be thinking about it for days. 

“I’m sorry,” Daeil says. It resonates loudly into the stillness of the lake, but it somehow rings truer that way. 

Jeonguk raises up a questioning eyebrow nonetheless. His heart starts doing backflips again. 

“I am, really,” Daeil repeats. He leaves the almost empty plastic cup on the ground, on the narrow space between them, and stretches his legs. They stay quiet for a few minutes as Daeil seems to chew over his next words. “I’ve always been a selfish bastard, you know that. It’s just... It’s been hard lately, in here.” He points to his head with a gloved finger. 

Jeonguk has been staring for a minute at the clean gauze on his cheek dancing up and down lightly as Daeil speaks. He finally answers, “That still doesn’t excuse what you’ve done.” And he doesn’t mean to be judge and jury so he’s willing to listen and get in Daeil’s shoes when he decides to open up. 

“I know.” He nods his assent solemnly, although a tiny smile curves his lips a second later. “I’ll make it up to you. Let me start with some deliciously greasy Pizza School maybe?” 

Daeil wiggles his eyebrows and Jeonguk can’t help himself; he chuckles, amused despite their serious conversation. There’s no hesitation in his hand when he reaches for the pink cup resting between them and takes a sip from it, eyes never leaving Daeil’s. “Yeah, that’d be a good start,” he concedes. 

They get up, rubbing their pants and their hands to get rid of the dry grass blades and the dust on their clothes and slowly start walking back into the city. All the traffic on the streets looks a little surreal in Jeonguk’s eyes, like he’s been dreaming and what has happened since yesterday night hasn’t been real and his mind has been playing tricks on him. Daeil’s presence is very solid beside him though, and Jeonguk steps closer to him if only to keep some warmth and kick away the feeling that he’s going to disappear in the blink of an eye. 

_Daeil is not going to disappear_ , he tells himself. It’s as if Daeil can somehow feel his anxiousness, because he shoulders Jeonguk and taps his forehead with a finger. The street lights are shining already in the quickly darkening sky, and it’s suddenly much colder than it was an hour ago. People huddle together to shield themselves from the unforgiving wind, and Jeonguk longs. Maybe it’ll snow tomorrow. 

He can hear Daeil muttering the word _pizza_ under his breath over and over again, and that little gesture makes him smile. It will take time for them to be okay and fix things, but he hopes they will get there. For now he is content with having Daeil by his side and the promise that they will keep on trying.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my sweetest beta for putting up with me ♡ comments are much appreciated, thanks a lot for passing by!


End file.
